


Shoot Up Some You, And The You Is Some Song

by diangeloco



Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Also they're not really "kids", Gen, I will add warnings in the notes for a chapter should it be needed, More tags to be added, Multi, Rock Band AU, The kids are in a band and it's fun, Young Adults, band au, i mean i hope it is, more like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-06-22 19:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15589206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diangeloco/pseuds/diangeloco
Summary: What do you do when you're fresh out of high school and not really keen on college or higher education yet? You form a band with your closest friends and make that your livelihood. The kids have been friends since forever, some since childhood, and they all like music, so it's a no brainer when Ilse suggests they start a band.This story picks up a little into their journey as a band. They know they're a lot of people in one band, but they make it work somehow. And hell, they have some remarkable times.





	1. The Kids Are Alright

**Author's Note:**

> So this is more of an introduction to the characters the way I've tweaked them to fit my AU. We love a good introduction here. The actual first chapter is currently being proof read and beta'd by a friend of mine who kindly agreed to help me, since this is my first fic writing adventure. Hope you stick around!!

**Melchior**

  * Guitar, both electric and acoustic
  * EdgelordTM
  * Writes angsty songs/poems
  * Know-It-All
  * Makes a lot of innuendos and nsfw jokes about everyone’s instrument
  * Examples include: “drummers bang harder”, “bassists finger better”
  * Has a tendency of moaning whenever a song is particularly good, it’s a bad habit he hasn’t been able to break since developing it in high school
  * Can and will correct you, even if he doesn’t know how to handle your instrument



**Wendla**

  * Not really comfortable on stage, so handles managing
  * Mom Friend
  * The only one who can handle/control Melchior, and calls him out on his bullshit
  * Childhood friend of Melchior’s, they had a thing going in high school, but they’re not a thing anymore (they were each other’s firsts)
  * Always brings snacks and/or baked goods to rehearsal
  * Actually has a lovely voice, and helps finding harmonies and will maybe provide back up on tracks, but never on stage



**Moritz**

  * Multi-talented to the max
  * Drums, guitar, sax, and various other instruments, wherever you need him, he nails it
  * Will handle singing Melchior’s angsty songs and makes them 110 times better than they already are
  * A very soulful voice, will make you cry
  * Could probably sing you right to sleep if he wanted to
  * High, Bi and Ready to DieTM
  * Childhood friend of Ilse, she’s like the sister he never had and he borderline worships her
  * Not really a fighter, but you better turn and cough if you bad mouth Ilse in front of him
  * A lot of feelings



**Martha**

  * Mom Friend #2
  * Keeps the band well fed and always brings food
  * Will pay your restaurant bill if you’re short on money, just to make sure you eat
  * Will write songs, but not perform them unless talked into it
  * Handles the band’s economy
  * The fans LOVE her because she’s so sweet with them
  * The soft butch to Anna’s femme
  * Soft for Anna, they’ve been a thing since forever
  * Is incredible at matching notes, her and Wendla are a match made in heaven



**Ilse**

  * Grunge, grunge, grunge
  * Leather jackets and combat boots
  * Shares the role of lead singer with Hanschen, their voices match perfectly
  * A childhood friend of Moritz, considers him a brother and WILL fight you if you hurt him
  * Will call you out on your bullshit (looking at you, Melchior)
  * Supportive friend #1, will not let you talk bad about yourself (this makes her an interesting match with Moritz)



**Hanschen**

  * Did someone say «diva»? Hanschen’s your guy
  * Shares the role of lead singer with Ilse
  * Also runs the band’s social media profiles
  * His voice is actual perfection, deep and raspy, but never hard to listen to
  * Will always handle Melchior’s texts  _alright_ , but Ernst’s are his favourites to sing
  * Has had a thing for Ernst since middle school, but nothing has come of it
  * He’s talented, and you bet your sweet ass he knows it
  * Gets sick frequently, a bit of a hypochondriac considering his voice  _is_  his livelihood



**Ernst**

  * Plays piano, keyboard and violin
  * Writes the more positive texts, a great contrast to Melchior
  * Works well with EVERYONE, and people wonder how that’s even possible
  * Literally the sweetest person, everyone trusts him to make them feel better on bad days
  * The others suspect he writes songs  _specifically_ for Hanschen, but he denies it
  * He doesn’t think he’s good enough for Hanschen (spoiler: he is)
  * Thinks Hanschen is just toying with him (spoiler: he’s not)
  * Self-conscious about his voice, both singing and speaking



**Anna**

  * Plays guitar, her favourite songs to play are Martha’s
  * Call her Marianna, and you  _will_  be sorry
  * So in love with Martha, you have  _no_  idea
  * The lesbian icon we all deserve
  * Femme af
  * Loves being on stage
  * Sings back up for Ilse, their voices are very similar
  * Has dabbled in writing songs, but usually leaves that to Martha



**Thea**

  * Plays drums, to everyone’s surprise
  * Her and Melitta are twins
  * SoftTM
  * At first glance, you would think she was a cheerleader, not a drummer in a rock band
  * Has anxiety and feels overwhelmed from time to time, will only tolerate Melitta and Wendla if she’s having an anxiety attack
  * She’s growing to let Otto closer to her, they’re very similar people and great friends
  * Loses herself in the music ~~the moment~~



**Melitta**

  * Older than Thea by two minutes, does not miss a chance of reminding her if given one
  * Plays violin, works very well with Ernst
  * Resting Bitch Face Supreme
  * Actually a sweetheart
  * Her and Thea are childhood friends of Hanschen’s, but they lost contact with him when their dad’s work made them move to a different city
  * The newest in the group, was introduced to the band by Hanschen



**Otto**

  * Plays bass and handles the touring aspect of the band’s career
  * Sweetheart af
  * Super kind and friendly, but will fight if someone threatens his friends
  * Can experience sensory overload if a situation is too stressful for him
  * Is a great friend to Thea, and took to her and Melitta right away when Hanschen introduced them
  * Sings back up vocals for Hanschen a lot, as his voice is the same as Hanschen’s only an octave higher



**Georg**

  * Pianist extraordinaire
  * But that’s also the only instrument he plays
  * In the process of learning bass from Otto and guitar from Moritz (Melchior tries to get in on it, but Wendla won’t let him)
  * Pines over Otto
  * And has been doing that since high school
  * Everyone thinks his aggressively round glasses are just a fashion statement, but he actually needs them really bad
  * Mentors Ernst on the piano and finds comfort in teaching




	2. Count Me In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Awesome, thanks, Wendla,” Hanschen smiled, getting to his feet. “Take my spot if you wanna, I have an announcement to make.”
> 
> “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant!” Melchior exclaimed, to spread giggle from the others.
> 
> “Shut the fuck up, Gabor. I’ll deck you if I need to,” Hanschen warned, but there was a playful glint in his eyes that revealed he wasn’t being serious.
> 
> “What is it?” Ernst asked, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand, a smile on his lips. Beside him, Ilse erupted into giggles, but the other paid that no attention. “Thank you for asking, Ernst,” Hanschen winked slightly and made Ernst’s ears turn pink. “I actually have two guests here with me today that I want you all to meet,” Hanschen continued. The others exchanged a few looks, but nobody said anything. Letting someone new into their group was rare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first actual chapter for this fic help
> 
> Be nice to her, she's a bit messy. I wanted to write a chapter which briefly introduced the group and their dynamic, so it's a lot of characters and a lot of dialogue for one chapter, but bear with me, I promise the following chapters will be better!
> 
> Chapter name inspiration: "Dear Maria, Count Me In" by All Time Low  
> Chapter warnings: there's some mild language, but nothing too serious!

“Are you all ready for rehear- Hansi! Put some clothes on!” Wendla looked scandalised, walking into their rehearsal space at the local community centre to find Hanschen laying on the beat down old loveseat wearing ripped jeans and an open flannel with nothing underneath. Hanschen was humming to himself, warming up his voice. At the end of the loveseat, squeezed between Hanschen’s legs and the armrest, sat Melchior. He was strumming away on his guitar, but he laughed at Wendla’s outburst.

“Sorry, Wendla,” Hanschen grinned up at her, pausing his warm up. “It got hot in here. We’re too many people in a small space,” he added. However, he sat up and started to button his flannel up again. Wendla’s face broke into a smile. “It’s alright, Hansi, I was just messing with you,” she smiled, holding up a plastic bag that no one had paid attention to prior. “I fear this will be a long evening, so I wanted to make sure you’re all eating.” Someone squealed, someone Wendla hadn’t seen was in the room yet. It was Ilse. The group looked surprised; they’d never heard Ilse squeal before. “You’re way too sweet, Vi,” Ilse said, getting up and wrapping Wendla in a welcoming hug. Wendla turned pink at that, but Ilse was beaming. “Okay, roll call,” she managed to break away from Ilse and put her bag down.

“Hanschen’s obviously here,” she smiled, winking over at the blond man who was now fully dressed and sitting up. “You know it, babe!” he replied, grinning. “Nope,” sounded the reply before Wendla moved down her list. “Melchi’s here. Ilse’s here. Moritz?” she looked up and around the room. The soulful sleepyhead was indeed missing. Wendla frowned and looked to Ilse, who was Moritz’ closest friend. “He’ll be here. Hard day. Dad,” was Ilse’s reply. She didn’t need to say much more, they all understood. “That’s alright. Thank you, Ilse,” Wendla muttered, looking back down. “Martha?”

“Right here,” Martha smiled, raising her hand.

“Anna? Wait, that’s a stupid question, of course you’re here,” Wendla caught herself, smiling over at Anna who was laying with her head in Martha’s lap. Both girls laughed at that, and Anna waved at Wendla.

“Ernst?”

“Here,” sounded the small voice that belonged to Ernst. Wendla smiled at him and he smiled back.

“Otto? Georg? Both here? Great,” she finished, the last two on her list giving her a wave from where they were both sat at the piano.

“Awesome, thanks, Wendla,” Hanschen smiled, getting to his feet. “Take my spot if you wanna, I have an announcement to make.”

“Don’t tell me you’re pregnant!” Melchior exclaimed, to spread giggle from the others.

“Shut the fuck up, Gabor. I’ll deck you if I need to,” Hanschen warned, but there was a playful glint in his eyes that revealed he wasn’t being serious.

“What is it?” Ernst asked, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand, a smile on his lips. Beside him, Ilse erupted into giggles, but the other paid that no attention. “Thank you for asking, Ernst,” Hanschen winked slightly and made Ernst’s ears turn pink. “I actually have two guests here with me today that I want you all to meet,” Hanschen continued. The others exchanged a few looks, but nobody said anything. Letting someone new into their group was rare.

Hanschen walked over to the door and opens it. Melchior was craning to see if he could see who Hanschen was talking to. Otto slipped off the piano stool because Georg had moved so he could see better and was bright red with embarrassment as Georg, chuckling, helped him back up. “Come on in,” Hanschen said to the invisible people outside.

Two girls entered, identical twins by the looks of it, except for the fact that one had red hair and the other blonde. The blonde was clinging to her sister’s hand but seemed fine otherwise. “Everyone, meet Melitta and Thea,” Hanschen said, striking a ridiculous pose to show off the girls. The others laughed and got to their feet to greet the newcomers. Ernst was the first to reach the girls, holding out his hand to them. “Welcome! My name is Ernst,” he smiled brightly. “I’m Melitta, and this is Thea,” the redhead, Melitta, said. Ernst shook Melitta’s hand first and then offered his hand to Thea. She seemed hesitant at first, but shook his hand. Ernst moved over to stand with Hanschen, now back to his normal stance with his arms crossed over his chest, to let Melchior introduce himself. When Ernst moved over to him, Hanschen uncrossed his arms and threw one casually over Ernst’s shoulder. “Friends of yours?” Ernst asked, ignoring the fact that his ears were heating up again. Ilse stepped up to introduce herself. She seemed to want to give the girls a hug, but Melitta stopped her and whispered something in her ear. Ilse seemed to understand and stepped back. Hanschen turned to look at Ernst, his eyes glancing ever so slightly down at his lips before looking back up at his eyes. “Childhood friends of mine, yes. They moved away when we were younger because of their dad’s work and only returned now,” he explained, a casual smile on his face.

“Otto, nice to meet you,” Otto said, firmly shaking both girls’ hands and giving them a sweet smile. “That’s a whole lotta names to remember,” Melitta smiled once Otto had introduced himself as the last person in the room. “And there will be one more arriving shortly,” Wendla explained, referring to Moritz, who still hadn’t shown up. A look from Wendla was all Ilse needed to get out her phone and text Moritz.

“Tell us a little bit about yourselves,” Martha smiled over to the new girls, wrapping her arm around Anna as the group sat back down. Hanschen told Melchior to scoot and invited Ernst into his lap to make room for Thea and Melitta on the couch. They both sat down and Melitta spoke up. “Well, Hanschen pretty much said it all. We were friends with him when we were younger, went to the same school, but then our dad got a promotion and we had to move away. We always liked it here, so- “, Thea cut her off, speaking for the first time since entering the room. “So, we decided to move back here on our own. We share an apartment in the same building as Hanschen.” Thea’s voice was small and quiet, not too unlike Ernst’s, but the others didn’t mind. They were just happy Thea felt comfortable enough to speak up among them.

“Tell them about your instruments!” Hanschen prompted. “You play?” Otto asked, looking at the girls with a smile. Melitta smiled back. “Yeah. I play violin,” she said, inviting Thea to do the same. “And I play drums,” she smiled softly. “Drums?! I did not have you pegged for that instrument, dang,” Ilse exclaimed, startling Thea. “Sorry,” she quickly added. “I was just surprised.” To everyone’s surprise, Thea laughed. “Everyone always seems to be,” she grinned, making the others laugh.

The conversation was interrupted by Ilse’s phone going off. Moritz was calling. Ilse frowned, Moritz usually avoided phone calls at all costs. She picked up. “What’s up?” the others fell quiet, watching Ilse with concern. As they watched her, her face gradually got angrier, the furrow between her brows growing deeper. “HE WHAT?!” she suddenly screamed, startling everyone. “I’ll be right there. Stay on the line with me. Breathe, Moritz.” She scrambled to her feet, grabbed her leather jacket and stormed towards the door. “I have to go get him. His dad just took it to a whole new level,” she explained to the others. Wendla covered her mouth in shock, and Melchior wrapped a consoling arm around her. Ernst whimpered a bit and Hanschen instinctively pulled him closer. “Do what you have to do, Ilse. We’ll wait here,” Georg said, brows knitted together in worry.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Ilse muttered through gritted teeth before leaving, only Hanschen and Ernst could hear her as they were sat the closest to the exit. Ernst looked at the other in worry. “She’s not serious, is she?” he asked, his voice smaller than normal. Hanschen just shrugged. “It’s Ilse. For all I know, she could be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated! :)
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr: diangeloco.tumblr.com  
> I make a lot of content for this AU on there, just add /tagged/sa-band-au to the url to see it :)


	3. Wouldn't Be Here If It Wasn't For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’d had each other’s backs for as long as they could remember, and Ilse had silently sworn that if someone tried to hurt Moritz, she would hurt them first and with double the force.
> 
> “Stay with me, Moritz. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she soothed, talking to Moritz on the phone and unlocking her car with one hand before getting in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is quaking, because this one's coming in hot with a lot more words.
> 
> Chapter name inspiration: "This Song Saved My Life" by Simple Plan (which is also featured in this chapter)  
> Chapter warnings: Some domestic abuse/mentions of past abuse + Melchior "edgelord" Gabor uses the d*ke slur once, but it's relatively harmless
> 
> Thank you all for reading my lil fic!! Comments and kudos are appreciated!

Ilse was fuming. She left the rehearsal space red in the face and beyond pissed. The others in the group knew her as Moritz’ best friend, but she knew better. In a lot of ways, she was Moritz’ sister, and she felt incredibly protective of him. They had known each other since childhood, having grown up together. When Ilse dropped out of school and lost contact with a lot of her so-called friends, Moritz was the one who actually made an effort to stay in touch with her. He would text her frequently, make sure she made it home safely and, though it never happened, would probably have beaten up the creeps Ilse met on her way singlehandedly if Ilse had told him about them. They’d had each other’s backs for as long as they could remember, and Ilse had silently sworn that if someone tried to hurt Moritz, she would hurt them first and with double the force.

“Stay with me, Moritz. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she soothed, talking to Moritz on the phone and unlocking her car with one hand before getting in.

*****

“Hurry up, Ilse. Please.”

Moritz was shaking. _Damn shaking, why wouldn’t it stop?_ He had locked himself in his room with the door locked from the inside. His dad had at last given up pounding on his door, but Moritz did not feel the least bit safe. It had all just happened so fast. He’d gotten home from work and was just supposed to take a shower and change before heading to rehearsal. His dad had called him in from the kitchen and Moritz had sighed and stepped into the kitchen for what he assumed was just another lecture about how the band wasn’t going to work out and “ _yadda yadda real job_ ” or whatever. It was worse. So much worse.

*****

“Hey, dad,” Moritz said, trying to act casual, as if his dad didn’t instantly trigger his fight or flight reflex. He didn’t get a response at first, only a half look from behind the newspaper. “Sit.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand. Moritz played by the rules and sat down. “What’s up?” he asked, again trying to keep the casual tone. His dad sighed, rolled his eyes and folded up his paper. Moritz knew something was wrong when he saw the plastic bags on the table, previously hidden by the paper. _Oh, fuck_. He swallowed hard, waiting for his dad to say something. “This is _what’s up_ , son,” the older man said, a venomous tone to his voice. “You really think I wouldn’t notice?”

Moritz hadn’t known how to respond. It was basically all cards on the table and he just had to own up to it. Yeah, he smoked weed. It wasn’t that big of a deal. He was of age, he could make his own choices, weed was less dangerous than alcohol. All of these explanations had fallen on deaf ears. His dad was having none of it, wouldn’t listen to Moritz’ reasons. It had escalated too.

“How can I ever show my face in public again, hm?!” That was usually how it started, Moritz had heard that he was disappointment more times than he could count on two hands. It had been a while since the last time too, so it was inevitable. “How can I ever present you to my colleagues again? My son, the stoner!” his dad yelled. Moritz flinched. His dad got up, Moritz remained seated, head bowed. “D-dad, it’s n-not... It’s not... It’s not that big of… of a deal,” he stammered out, voice barely above a whisper. A hand slammed into the table in front of him and he flinched again. “Not that big of a deal?! Did I really just hear you say that with my own two ears?!” his dad screamed. Moritz felt his eyes sting, tears threatening to fall. _That would just be the cherry on top, wouldn’t it? If he started to cry_.

He carefully started to get to his feet, praying that his dad had finally had enough. “You sit the fuck back down, I’m not done with you!” was the response, a pair of big hands shoved him back down and almost knocked him to the ground, as soon as he was sitting again, one of the hands who had pushed him down slapped him across the face. Hard. A kind of courage that Moritz didn’t know he possessed came over him and he got back up again. His dad was now red in the face with anger, fist raised to hit him again, but Moritz had had enough of this.

“Look, I know I’m a disappointment. You’ve been telling me that ever since I was old enough to comprehend what it meant, and the number only increased when mom died. It’s old news by this point. I’m not gonna stay here anymore!” he said, relatively calmly. For once in his life he didn’t stutter when talking to his dad, because he knew precisely what he wanted to say.

“I’m 21 years old. I can make my own... My own damn choices. I am going to leave now. I’m gonna go up to my room, I’m gonna pack up my things and I’m gonna call Ilse, and you’re not gonna follow me. You don’t… You don’t get to… You don’t get to control my life anymore, I’ve had enough,” he finished, grabbing the small plastic bags from the table and running for the stairs. He knew his dad was following, but thankfully he was quicker. He slammed the door to his room shut and locked it from the inside.

He was now shaking all over, fumbling with his phone and pressing Ilse’s name, calling her.

*****

“Moritz?! Moritz! Are you still there?” Ilse screamed in his ear, yanking him back to the present. “Y-yeah, I am. Sorry,” he muttered, feeling like a balloon slowly being drained of air. “Oh, thank the lord,” Ilse sighed in relief, exiting her car. She had parked down the street from Moritz’ house, holding her phone between her shoulder and her cheek. “You got your stuff ready?”

“Yeah.”

“You sound deflated, is everything alright?”

“I’m shaking, Ilse. I don’t know why, and it won’t stop. P-please, just hurry up.”

“I’m outside as we speak, Ritzie. Just hold on.”

Moritz felt a little safer. Ilse usually saved her nicknames for him for times like these; she knew they calmed him.

“Is it safe for me to walk in through the front door, or should I climb through the window?”

“Window. I don’t know what my dad’s doing, he could be armed for all I know. I told him I was going to call you, and you know how that usually goes, he-,”

“Point taken, Moritz,” she cut him off, starting her climb up to his bedroom window. Seconds later, she silently dropped to the floor inside his room. She finally hung up the call and Moritz put his phone down. He was sitting on the floor and he looked even smaller than normal. Ilse sat down beside him. “1 through 10?” she asked. It was a thing they did. If Moritz was feeling overwhelmed, Ilse would ask him “1 through 10” and if he was above a seven, she wouldn’t touch him. “Five,” he muttered, and Ilse instantly wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He curled in on himself in her arms and then the tears finally fall.

They sat like that for a while. Moritz let himself cry and Ilse allowed him to. Lord knows he needed it. By the time Moritz calmed down, the entire front of Ilse’s band tee was soaked. She didn’t mind, however. The only thing that mattered was that Moritz is okay. “Have you packed everything, Ritzie?” Ilse asked quietly, smoothing over the boy’s unruly hair. Moritz nodded and pulled back to wipe his eyes. “I have, but I don’t have anywhere to go,” he muttered. Ilse snorted, breaking into a smile. “Nonsense. You’re moving in with me,” she said, playfully punching him in the arm. Moritz smiled for the first time since Ilse climbed in his window. “Really? You have the space?” he asked, tilting his head a bit. “Don’t worry about that!” she said, waving her hand around before getting to her feet and pulling him up as well. “Grab your shit and come with me,” Ilse smiled, grabbing one of Moritz’ bags and throwing it over her shoulder. Moritz nodded, grabbing his Bi pride flag off the wall and stuffing it into his suitcase with the rest of his things. He closed the suitcase and grabbed his guitar, ready to go. “Is that everything?” Ilse asked, looking around. “I’m keeping this door locked, so if I forget something of importance I can always climb back in this window without my dad noticing,” he nodded, gesturing to the door. “Stop calling him that, Ritzie,” Ilse said, shaking her head a bit.

“What?” Moritz was confused.

“Running away 101 with Ilse Neumann, lesson one: When you run away from abusive households, you cut all ties with them, including your familial relationship. He’s now and forevermore only Mr. Stiefel to you. Stiefel if you don’t feel like giving him the respect of calling him Mr.”

“What about me? What’s my name if it’s not Stiefel?”

“It can still be Stiefel if you want it to be, just don’t associate it with that scumbag you’ve been living with.”

“I’ll stay Moritz Stiefel, then,” he chuckled a bit, giving her a half smile.

“I’m proud of you, Ritzie. Your life’s gonna be so much better without him,” Ilse beamed, heading for the window. “C’mon, asshole, let’s go!”

*****

“S-she’s been gone for a long time…” Ernst muttered, fidgeting with the sleeve of Hanschen’s flannel, which he’d graciously offered up for Ernst to pick at instead of his own skin. “I know, but we can’t do anything but wait,” Melchior sighed. Hanschen shot a glare at him, to which he raised his hands in a ‘ _what the fuck did I do?_ ’ position. Wendla, rolling her eyes, grabbed Melchior’s hands and forced them back down. She whispered something to him and he fell silent, sulking.

“Is this… Is this normal?” Thea’s small voice asked. Several of the people in the room shook their heads. “We all know Moritz has a difficult relationship with his father, but we’ve never experienced anything like this,” Otto explained, voice weirdly strained. Georg looked at him with an unspoken question in his eyes. Otto nodded, and Georg wrapped an arm around him. “And him and Ilse, are they…?” Melitta asked. Melchior couldn’t help but to snort. “Ilse has the biggest _Big Dyke Energy_ of this group,” he chuckled. “Melchi!” Wendla said, slapping his chest with the back of her hand. “What he meant to say is that Ilse is a huge lesbian,” Anna explained, struggling to hide a laugh. Melitta flushed red. “O-Oh,” was the only sound coming from her in response. “Don’t worry about it, Melitta. You didn’t know. And honestly, nobody can blame you for thinking they were a couple,” Anna smiled reassuringly. “They’re like brother and sister, have been for years,” Martha added.

Wendla’s phone made a noise and the entire group jumped at the sound. She fumbled with it for a bit, unlocking it and reading the message, sent to the band’s group chat.

[ **Msg. from:** Queen Elsa] _Got him out!! He’s safe, but a little shaken. He’s at a five, so you can hug him when we get there,  
__just don’t pressure him with questions yet. We’re just gonna dump his shit at my place before heading over, he’s moving in with me._

Wendla read the message out loud to the entire group. They all let out sounds of relief, Ernst almost collapsed in Hanschen’s arms out of relief, the blonde chuckling a bit at him, but holding him regardless. “Thank, God!” Ernst sighed.

“God is dead, Ernst,” Melchior announced, but they all knew he was just as relieved as the rest of them.

“Alright, Nietzsche. Calm down,” Hanschen snorted.

A few minutes later the door opened, and Ilse walked in, followed by Moritz. The entire group, save Thea and Melitta, got to their feet and rushed over to give Moritz a group hug. Melchior got there first, to everyone’s surprise, but Moritz happily accepted the hug from Melchior. One after the other, they all wrapped their arms around Melchior and Moritz, forming a huge pile in the door. “That’s enough, guys. You’re suffocating me,” Moritz chuckled after a while. They all broke away from the group hug, laughing. “We’re all so happy you’re okay!” Ernst beamed, giving Moritz a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling away, making him blush.

“But hey, who’s this?” Moritz asked, finally noticing Thea and Melitta. Hanschen chuckled a bit. “You missed the introduction, I’m afraid. Friends of mine. They can introduce themselves,” he said, gesturing for the girls to stand up. The girls walked over to Moritz, both smiling. “My name is Thea, nice to meet you,” Thea said, offering a hand to Moritz. Moritz squeezed her hand before turning to Melitta. “And you?” he asked, offering her his hand. “Melitta,” she smiled. “And you’re sisters, I’m guessing?” Moritz smiled back. “Yup, twins,” Melitta answered. “Well, it’s nice to meet you both! I’m sorry about the circumstances,” Moritz chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck a little. “No problem, don’t worry about it,” both girls smiled at him.

The group collectively decided to not focus too heavily on the rehearsal aspect this evening. Both because of what had happened to Moritz and because of the new girls. They chose to do what they called _therapy jams_ where they just sat around, everyone on their instruments and Ilse and Hanschen on vocals, just jamming. It could be their own songs or covers everyone had drilled into their muscle memory, the point wasn’t necessarily to sound great, the point was to get their feelings out.

Melchior started plucking on his guitar, a song they all knew. Moritz quickly followed, smiling calmly to himself, falling into the melody with ease. Moments later, realization settled on Georg and he quickly joined them on the piano. “Oh, you guys! You can’t play Simple Plan and not expect me to sing along,” Ernst exclaimed, clasping his hands together in shock. A few of the others chuckled, and Hanschen shook his head a bit. “Nobody’s stopping you from singing but you, Ernst,” Hanschen chuckled. This did not go unnoticed by Wendla, who exchanged looks with Ilse. The two girls shared a nod and then Wendla spoke up. “Come on, Ernst! Sing the song together with Hansi,” she smiled, prodding him gently with her finger. Ernst flushed bright red. “C’mon, punk. You can sing, we all fucking know it,” Ilse chimed in, grinning. “I-I couldn’t, not w-with..” Ernst slowly trailed off. Hanschen chuckled a bit. “Why not?” he asked, shifting to face Ernst more directly. Across the room, Anna and Martha shared a look and rolled their eyes at each other. “Look, I’m gonna start singing and if I don’t hear you coming in with the back up vocals, I’ll be real mad,” Hanschen grinned, winking at Ernst. “Back up, guys. From the top again,” he added, snapping his fingers at the boys playing the song.

“ _I wanna start letting you know this_  
_Because of you my life has a purpose_  
 _You helped me be who I am today_  
 _I see myself in every word you say_ ,”

Hanschen started off, hitting the low starting notes perfectly. He sang all of the words directly to Ernst, very expectantly and clearly waiting for him to join. It took half of the first verse before Ernst’s mouth even opened, and when it did his voice was so quiet compared to Hanschen’s that the others almost missed him completely. Hanschen graciously lowered his volume, meeting Ernst halfway.

“ _Sometimes it feels like nobody gets me_  
_Trapped in a world where everyone hates me_  
 _There's so much that I'm going through_  
 _I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you,_ ”

In the background, Hanschen could see Wendla and Ilse high fiving and Moritz grinning widely as he supported them on the guitar. Ernst didn’t see this, as the others were seated behind him and Ernst was singing directly to Hanschen as if the rest of the room didn’t exist. As they approached the chorus, Otto had joined them on the bass, kicking up the beat just as the song picked up and gained momentum. Wendla and Martha took it upon themselves to find harmonies suited for the two boys leading the song, singing said harmonies in lowered head voices to create an almost magical experience. Thea and Melitta exchanged looks, smiling. They’d come to the right place.

“ _I was broken_  
_I was choking_  
 _I was lost_  
 _This song saved my life_  
 _I was bleeding_  
 _Stopped believing_  
 _Could have died_  
 _This song saved my life_  
 _I was down_  
 _I was drowning_  
 _But it came on just in time_  
 _This song saved my life_ ”

The chorus ended with Ernst actually singing over Hanschen, really stretching his voice and baring it for all to see. After that however, he slowly trailed off until he wasn’t singing anymore. He was still red in the face, but he was smiling widely now. The song went on and Hanschen was joined by Ilse on main vocals. But Hanschen was still very much singing directly to Ernst, giving him no chance to escape or hide. The song ended after another verse and chorus, the room exploding in applause. Nobody applauded harder than Thea and Melitta. They were so impressed by the group’s dynamic and talent, it was really something special.

“Why don’t you sing more often, Ernst?” Otto asked, putting the bass away and addressing Ernst. The boy in question scratched the back of his neck a bit, shrugging. “I’m not sure. I guess I just prefer playing instruments,” he answered, smiling shyly. “Well, you should sing more often. You’ve got a lovely voice!” Wendla smiled, reaching out to squeeze Ernst’s shoulder. “We should work in some duets between you and Hanschen in our setlist!” Ernst’s mouth dropped open in shock and it made the rest of the group laugh. “You can’t be serious?” Ernst managed to get out. “Why not? Your voices fit together so well!” Wendla continued. Hanschen playfully punched Ernst’s shoulder. “Why don’t you wanna sing with me, asshole?” he grinned.

Silence came over the group as Ernst struggled to find an answer that made sense. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, not finding the words. “What, are you a fish now?” Melchior teased and Ernst closed his mouth one last time, a shameful blush creeping onto his face. The conversation ended at that, because Anna quickly swept in and started to play another song, grabbing the attention of the room. This time it was Ilse on main vocals, giving Hanschen a chance to rest a bit. Martha provided the back up and Wendla prompted Melitta to join her on the harmonies. For a moment, everything seemed alright again. Moritz had almost forgotten the events of the day as he switched instruments to play the drums to back up the girls.


	4. All We Do Is Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otto had also noticed all the issues in Georg’s car that constantly needed fixing but never seemed to get any better. Like the way the car clicked like a rollercoaster making its way to the top of the track whenever Georg would turn the wheel a little too harshly. The back window on the right-hand side had caved in at one point and could never be opened again. The AC smelled vaguely of burnt rubber whenever it was turned on. Still, with all it’s issues and weird little kinks that needed to be sorted out, Georg’s car was a familiar thing in Otto’s life, and anyone who knew Otto knew that he appreciated familiarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, it's been a minute since I updated this, sorry about that! I've been having some issues with my internet so I haven't been able to post. In return, though, this has given me time to work on the next chapter without many distractions. I can even dare to say that I'm really proud of this chapter! Enjoy!
> 
> Chapter name inspiration: "Drive" by Halsey, which is also featured at the very end of this chapter  
> Chapter warnings: Some language, the gang goes out for drinks (some alcohol consumption, but nothing big), panic attack/sensory overload mention
> 
> You can always find me on tumblr! (diangeloco.tumblr.com) I would love to hear from you!!

Otto loved his band mates to death. He cared deeply about all of them, he really did. He adored Ilse and Melchior’s constant bickering. The highlight of his day was to see Wendla laugh, or see Anna and Martha share a private-but-not-private moment in the middle of a crowded room. Otto had a way of noticing the little things, like the way Georg’s face lit up whenever Ernst put a hand on his shoulder and asked him to schedule a piano lesson. Moritz’ content expression whenever he played guitar to himself, sometimes with his eyes closed. Hanschen being obviously and deeply in love with Ernst was heart-warming, even if it was frustrating to see Ernst be seemingly oblivious to it all. Still, Otto enjoyed simply being a witness to his friends navigating their way through life. He was beyond excited to get to know Thea and Melitta too. Just being a part of it all was enough to keep him satisfied. Most of the time, at least.

The band decided to head out after rehearsal, Martha insisted that they go out for drinks. When Otto tried to explain that he didn’t really have any money, having blown his last pay check on bleaching and dying his hair blue, it earned him a friendly pat on the back and a bright smile from Martha, who she said she would cover him. Moments like that made Otto appreciate the hell out of his friends. “Thank you, Martha. Remind me to pay you back as soon as I get my next pay check!” he smiled, wrapping an arm around Martha’s shoulder and walking with her and Anna towards the cars. “You won’t get anywhere with that, Otto. She won’t let you pay her back,” Anna grinned, grabbing her girlfriend’s hand. “Damn right I won’t,” Martha laughed. Then she rubbed her thumb over Anna’s hand. She always did that whenever the two locked hands, Otto had noticed. It made him smile. “Are you made of money or what?” he asked jokingly. The girls laughed. “Nah, I’m just better at managing my money than you punks. Remember who your treasurer is, honey,” Martha replied, playfully ruffling Otto’s newly dyed hair. “For example, I don’t blow my money on dying my hair blue.” Otto ducked his head to free himself from Martha’s hand. “Leave me alone, I’m trying new things,” he laughed. “It looks great,” said a voice from behind them. Georg had silently walked closer to them, listening in on the conversation. He had a habit of doing that. Being freakishly quiet and stealthy for someone with such long limbs. “Thanks!” Otto beamed. For some reason, getting a compliment on his new ‘do from Georg meant a lot to him. Martha let go of Otto and looked knowingly between the two boys before tugging Anna with her towards her car. “Need a ride?” Georg asked, shoving his hands in his pocket and shifting his weight to the balls of his feet and back, sending his long body swaying a bit. Another habit of his that Otto had picked up on over their years of friendship. “Always do,” Otto smiled in response to Georg’s question. Georg smiled in return and the two headed towards his car.

Otto was familiar with Georg’s car. Being responsible as he was, Georg had gotten his license and a car as soon as he was able to. Needless to say, Otto had needed a significant number of rides through the years. He always rode for free if Georg was at the wheel, so that was just a bonus. Personally, Otto wasn’t sure if he’d ever get his license. Driving caused him a tremendous amount of stress, and he wasn’t sure if his driver’s license was worth the anxiety of driving all that much. In short, he was grateful for Georg’s rides.

His car was a good indicator of Georg’s character. Everything had a place. Georg never mentioned it when it was Otto, but with anyone else he would instantly call them out if they messed with his system. In a way, the car felt more like Georg’s personal space than his apartment or even his room ever could. There was never any mess in his car, not even an empty takeaway cup of coffee in the cupholder. Otto had also noticed all the issues in Georg’s car that constantly needed fixing but never seemed to get any better. Like the way the car clicked like a rollercoaster making its way to the top of the track whenever Georg would turn the wheel a little too harshly. The back window on the right-hand side had caved in at one point and could never be opened again. The AC smelled vaguely of burnt rubber whenever it was turned on. Still, with all it’s issues and weird little kinks that needed to be sorted out, Georg’s car was a familiar thing in Otto’s life, and anyone who knew Otto knew that he appreciated familiarity.

“What do you think about the new girls?” Georg’s voice pierced through Otto’s bubble and brought him out of his head again. He always silently thanked Georg for doing that, because he had a tendency of getting lost in thought and overthink. Otto stretched his arms above his head and put his seat belt on as Georg started the car, getting comfortable. “They seem great! I feel like they could fit right in with us should they want to,” Otto smiled, glancing over at Georg, whose eyes were fixed on the road ahead. He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, me too,” he replied. “Thea seems to be a lot like you,” he added after a few moments of silence. Otto tilted his head a bit in confusion. “America, explain?” he asked, the hint of a smile grazing his lips as he revelled in his own clever reference. It earned him a laugh from Georg. “You know, nervous, fidgety, really sweet if she gets out of her head and stops worrying too much? Like that,” he replied, quickly glancing at Otto before turning his attention back to the road, following Martha’s car towards their destination. A hint of a blush crept onto Otto’s face. “Oh, yeah. Like that,” he muttered, glancing out the window.

“It’s not a bad thing!” Georg quickly said, afraid he’d said something wrong.

“No, I know.”

Silence.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because I fucked up?”

A laugh.

“It would take a lot more for me to get mad at you, Georg. You know that.”

A sigh of relief.

“Would you say that it would _take a lot to drag me away from you_?”

“ _There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do_.”

Both boys laughed, the tension in the car lifting as Georg turned the wheel a little too fast and the car clicked its way onto a narrower road. “Did you really mean that, by the way?” Otto asked, looking over at his friend. “Mean what?” Georg asked, glancing back at him. “That I’m really sweet if I’m not too caught up in my head?” Otto muttered in response. It sounded stupid when he said it out loud, he should have kept quiet. “Of course. I thought that was obvious,” Georg smiled, turning the car again, this time into the parking lot of the bar Martha had lead them to. Otto didn’t reply, but his heart skipped a beat. He needed fresh air.

Georg parked the car and both boys clicked off their seat belts and opened their doors in unison. Soon they were joined by Anna and Martha, both arriving in Martha’s car. Hanschen arrived not much later with Ernst, Thea and Melitta. Ilse had driven Moritz, and Melchior and Wendla both drove their own cars. “Everyone here? Awesome, let’s go!” Martha grinned once the group had assembled. They all headed for the entrance, looking like an overgrown group of kindergarteners on a field trip.

“Hello there, Martha and friends!” the bartender greeted them with a smile. The group never questioned how the bartender was on a first name basis with Martha, but it got them some sweet discounts and that was always a bonus. Martha smiled and waved back. “Just get us the usual, please,” she said before leading the group over to a table in the corner. It was a tight squeeze with everyone there, but it worked out alright. Otto sat squeezed between Georg and Thea. The latter looked a little uncomfortable, so Otto gently touched her arm to get her attention. “You alright?” he asked, voice quiet and a smile on his lips. He tried to look as non-threatening as possible. Apparently, he succeeded, because Thea smiled in return and replied. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” On the opposite side of the table, Ilse started demanding attention from the group just as their drinks arrived. “I was thinking, since we have some new friends here with us today,” she started, smiling brightly at Thea and Melitta. “That we would play a good old-fashioned game of Never Have I Ever to get to know each other better!” Wendla clapped her hands together in excitement. “That’s a good idea, Ilse!” There were murmurs of agreement all around the table. Soon enough, everyone had their drinks and the game was ready to begin.

“Before we begin, I have to ask,” Ilse said, adjusting a bit in her seat. “On a scale of 1 through 10, where ten is the most uncomfortable, where are we all at for the questions? Like, how dirty can we go?” she asked, talking to the group as a whole, but addressing Thea and Melitta the most. The twins shared a look. “A six, maybe?” Melitta said and Thea nodded. “Six is fine! We all good with that?” Ilse asked the rest of the group. Several heads nodded, and Ilse beamed. “Awesome, let’s start then. Melchior, you always seem to have a question ready, why don’t you start?” Melchior nodded, taking the challenge from Ilse head on.

“Never have I ever failed a class,” he said, leaving his own glass untouched.

“Oh, fuck you, Melchi!” Moritz groaned, taking a sip. Melchior just winked at him, knowing full well what he’d done. Ilse, Otto and Melitta all took a sip from their drinks in addition to Moritz. “Really now, Melitta? Enlighten us, please,” Ilse chuckled, putting her glass down and wiping her mouth. “I failed English my freshman year of high school,” she shrugged, seemingly unbothered. “Cheers,” Moritz said, grinning at her. The group laughed before the turn moved onto Wendla, who was sitting next to Melchior.

“Never have I ever fallen off a stage,” Wendla grinned, placing her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand.

Hanschen raised his middle finger at her as he took his first sip of the game. He was the only one to do so, too. The group howled with laughter. “In my defense, you gotta go hard or not at all! I was just giving the people what they wanted,” Hanschen said, putting his glass back down and raising his hands in a defensive position. “I don’t think anyone in the crowd wanted a half-naked Hanschen to land on top of them mid performance,” Ernst giggled into his hand, remembering the incident vividly. “Who wouldn’t want that?!” Hanschen fired back, a playful glint in his eyes. “Moving on!” Ilse announced, the turn now moving onto her.

“Never have I ever… Gotten fired from a job.”

Melchior, Moritz, Thea and Martha all took a sip. The group looked at Thea in surprise, who laughed a little. “I’m not cut for working retail,” she explained, running a hand through her hair. Melitta hummed in agreement, which earned her a playful hit on the upper arm. “You and me both, sister,” Martha said, raising a glass at Thea and grinning.

“Never have I ever fallen asleep on a bathroom floor,” Martha said.

The entire group aside from Thea, Melitta and Martha took a sip. “What, Ernst?! When?!” Otto asked in surprise, putting his glass down and wiping his mouth a bit. Ernst laughed, his head tilting back a bit. He had a habit of doing so. “You remember when Georg drove me home from Hanschen’s 21st birthday party? You were there, Otto!” he explained. It dawned on Otto at that. “Oh, right! Really?” he asked. Ernst nodded, flushing a bit. “I never made it to my bed,” he chuckled. “At least you got home safely,” Hanschen said, playfully ruffling Ernst’s hair. “Yeah, at least there’s that,” he replied, smoothing over his hair a bit, smiling brightly.

“Never have I ever been with someone of the opposite sex,” Anna said, winking at Martha. Otto noticed that, and it made him smile a bit. He left his glass untouched. He’d never been with someone, period.

Wendla, Melchior, Hanschen, Ilse and Melitta all took a sip. There was really no surprise there. The game went on without any questions.

“I’ll do you one better, Anna. Never have I ever been with someone of the same sex,” Moritz said. Anna laughed, sipping from her drink. As did Martha, Hanschen, Ernst, Melchior and Ilse. Again, not really a surprise to anyone.

“I’ll do _you_ one better, Moritz,” Georg said, grinning. “Never have I ever always been single.” He kinda brought himself down with that one, having to take a sip at his own statement, but it elicited a laugh from the group. Joining Georg in the shameful sip of singles was Otto, Moritz and Thea. “Aww, you guys will find someone, I’m sure of it!” Wendla teased, winking at them. “You’re _so_ funny, Wendla,” Moritz chuckled, putting his glass down.

The turn now passed to Otto, who’d had quite some time to think of something, but still hadn’t come up with anything. He had one question, but it would force him to take a drink too, and he didn’t want to what Georg had just done. He stayed silent for a while, desperately trying to think of something. “Never have I ever… Had the hots for Melchior,” he finally said. The table erupted in laughter and Melchior gave them all the middle finger. “You fuckers better drink!” he announced but he was laughing regardless. To nobody’s surprise, Wendla and Hanschen both took a sip. What surprised most of them, though, was that Ernst took a drink too. “Ernst, I am beyond flattered,” Melchior said, leaning on the table and making kissy faces at Ernst, who promptly shoved his hand in Melchior’s face, pushing him away. “Get over yourself, Melchi. I was thirteen and didn’t know any better,” he teased, grinning widely. It took the group a while to settle down after that. Ernst had made all of them laugh until they cried. Otto felt accomplished. Seeing everyone laughing so hard because of something he’d said was incredibly rewarding. He really loved his friends a lot.

“You’ve now officially made me curious, so I’m gonna say… Never have I ever had a crush on someone at this table,” Thea said once the laughter finally died down. Otto’s heart sank. _Oh no_. That had been the question he had been afraid of asking himself. Much to his relief, however, every single person around the table took a sip, except from Thea and Melitta. “Oh God, Mel. We’ve walked in on some weird cult,” Thea whispered jokingly to her sister, loud enough for everyone to hear. The table erupted in laughter once again, probably a result of the alcohol most of them had consumed. “It’s not as weird as it seems, I promise,” Ilse managed to wheeze out between laughs.

The game went on until most of the band members had emptied their glasses, the ones who still had something left when the game ended were challenged to chug it, which they did with no problem. Martha ordered a pizza for them and they all happily ate, the chatter among them flowing easily. Otto was enjoying himself. He wasn’t worrying a lot and didn’t get too lost in his head. Georg only had to elbow him twice throughout the entire evening to bring him back out of his bubble. It was nice. As the clock neared 11:30pm, the group started to disperse. Ilse and Moritz left first, since they had to get Moritz settled in Ilse’s apartment. Anna and Martha left not much longer after that. Martha left her money on the table, paying for herself, Anna and Otto. Hanschen offered to drive Ernst, Thea and Melitta home and Melchior and Wendla left not much longer after that. After no longer than fifteen minutes, Georg and Otto were the only ones left at the table.

Silence settled over them and Otto busied himself with counting the money everyone had left for the bill to make sure they had enough while Georg lit a cigarette. Once Otto had counted the money both two and three times, Georg elbowed him to bring him out of his head again. “You’re worrying about something,” he said, exhaling smoke away from the table. Otto silently appreciated that he always did that. He didn’t really mind cigarette smoke, but too much inside a small room made his head hurt. “Otto, did you hear me?” Georg asked, looking at him with brows furrowed. Otto noticed that little scar that he had above his left eyebrow. It always became more prominent when Georg would furrow his brows like that. “Otto! You’re spacing out on me,” Georg repeated, stubbing his cigarette out and leaving it in the ashtray on the table. It was still kind of smoking, Otto noticed. Georg, now seriously worried that his friend had completely shut down or something, placed a firm hand on each of Otto’s shoulders and gently shook him. “Wha-? What?” Otto said, shaking his head a bit. _Oh god, he’d spaced out again_. He hadn’t done that in months. He couldn’t even remember what had triggered it last time. “I’m sorry, Georg. I… I..-“ he couldn’t finish the sentence, his heart was beating too hard. Georg was still gripping his shoulder, grounding him, reminding him that he was still there and that he wouldn’t leave him alone. “You spaced out,” Georg finished the sentence for him. Otto just nodded, his head swimming and tears welling up in his eyes. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Georg made the executive decision to move them. He got up, gently pulling Otto with him. He grabbed his own phone and keys from the table as well as Otto’s and waved at the bartender to show him that they were leaving. Then he gently guided Otto towards the door and outside in the cold night air. Once outside, Otto heaved a deep breath. While Otto got his breathing under control, Georg didn’t move an inch. He stayed right beside his best friend, still holding onto one of his shoulders with his hand. Slowly, but surely, Otto’s breathing evened out and the light came back in his blue eyes. “Feeling better?” Georg asked gently, squeezing his shoulder a bit. Otto nodded slowly. “Y-yeah. Thank you for bringing me outside,” he said, his voice small, but steady. “Don’t mention it. That’s what I’m here for. To take care of you,” Georg smiled in response. “Wanna crash at my place tonight?” he asked, finally letting go of Otto’s shoulder. Otto nodded. “I would like that, yes.”

They got back in the car. Georg passed Otto the AUX cord. “Play whatever you wanna play. We have a bit of a drive in front of us,” he said, putting his seat belt on and starting the car. Georg lived on the opposite side of the town from where they were currently at. Otto put his seat belt on and took the cord he was handed. “Thanks for trusting my music taste,” he chuckled a bit. “You’re my best friend, why shouldn’t I trust your music taste?” Georg replied, turning onto the road. “Touché,” Otto laughed. He scrolled through his Spotify playlists and selected the one that was collaborative for the whole band, this way making sure that there was music both he and Georg would enjoy there. He pressed “shuffle play”, so that he wouldn’t know what song would be next. The first song started to play as Georg turned onto the main road and Otto leaned back in his seat, getting comfortable.

 _“Your laugh echoes down the highway_  
_Carves into my hollow chest,_  
 _Spreads over the emptiness_  
 _It’s bliss_

_It’s so simple but we can’t stay_   
_Overanalyze again_   
_Would it really kill you if we kissed_

_All we do is drive_   
_All we do is think about the feelings that we hide_   
_All we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign_   
_Sick and full of pride_   
_All we do is drive”_

Oh, the irony, Otto thought to himself as he closed his eyes and listened as Halsey’s voice filled the otherwise quiet car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated!!


	5. Conversations In The A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Y’know, you should really be watching the road,” Otto said, piercing through the music that was playing in the car. He was smiling and looking directly at Georg in the reflection in the window, his eyes practically competing with the street lights. Georg flushed and tore his eyes away and back to the road. “Sorry,” he mumbled, turning the wheel and turning onto his street. Otto chuckled, reaching for his phone to unplug it from the AUX cord now that they were close to Georg’s apartment. “No need to apologize,” he hummed, turning the music off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii~  
> This is late, and I'm sorry about that. It's really been way too long and I'm sorry. These last couple of weeks have been cRAZY my dudes. I moved to the UK, started attending University, got a cold (which I'm still struggling with) and I just haven't had time to write. Please accept this as a peace offering, I promise to be better.
> 
> Chapter warnings: hasn't been proof read, oblivious fools in love, aka nothing major  
> Chapter name inspiration: "Made In The A.M." by One Direction, which is ironic considering the fact that I'm posting this at 12.30AM
> 
> (serious bonus points to those who catch the vine references these two idiots communicate in)

Georg had noticed how painfully observant Otto was. Whenever Otto would tell him about their band mates, Georg would learn new things about his friends that he could have noticed had he just been a little more observant. Now, he wasn’t a total airhead, he did notice a lot of the things Otto mentioned, but he never paid as close attention as his best friend. It was one of the many things he appreciated about Otto.

They drove mostly in silence, breaking it from time to time to talk about the events of the evening or to sing along to the music playing. Georg wasn’t really a singer, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. Otto was phenomenal. There was no other way to put it. They had been friends since childhood and Georg had heard Otto sing numerous times. He never understood why Otto sang back up for Hanschen, when it clearly should be the other way around. Otto’s voice was soft where Hanschen’s was raspy, high where Hanschen’s was low. Sure, Hanschen was more comfortable on stage and he knew how to perform, and he didn’t have an instrument to fall back on like Otto did, but Georg was still wholeheartedly convinced that Otto should get more solos and opportunities than he was currently getting.

Georg glanced over at Otto as he drove along the main road. His friend was looking out the window; he could see his bright blue eyes reflected in the dark car window. The colour was only highlighted by the now blue hair Otto was also rocking. Georg hadn’t lied when he’d told Otto that the hair looked good. It really did. It brought out his blue eyes a lot more and it also, in a weird way, made his tiny freckles pop. Contrasted with the dark clothing Otto usually sported, it gave him a pretty cool punk rock look, which Georg was a huge fan of. Maybe he was a lot more observant than he gave himself credit for. He always seemed to notice new things about Otto.

“Y’know, you should really be watching the road,” Otto said, piercing through the music that was playing in the car. He was smiling and looking directly at Georg in the reflection in the window, his eyes practically competing with the street lights. Georg flushed and tore his eyes away and back to the road. “Sorry,” he mumbled, turning the wheel and turning onto his street. Otto chuckled, reaching for his phone to unplug it from the AUX cord now that they were close to Georg’s apartment. “No need to apologize,” he hummed, turning the music off. The silence it left them in was almost too much. Georg felt like the silence had crushed him completely. It didn’t exactly help with the deafening silence that neither of them seemed to want to say anything. He drove into his assigned parking spot and turned the car off. “How are you feeling?” he asked, turning to face Otto now that he didn’t have to watch the road anymore. He wanted to know how Otto felt after his mini-freak out back at the bar. Otto cast his eyes down a bit, as if retreating into his body and truly searching for something. “I feel… Alright. Definitely drained, though. Tired. I’m sure you can relate to having experienced a panic attack,” he said after a while. Georg nodded, understanding precisely what Otto was talking about. “Hungry?” he asked. Otto shook his head. “Not really, but I definitely do need to get my blood sugar up a bit anyway.” Georg smiled at him, reaching over in a seemingly bold move and squeezing Otto’s thigh reassuringly. “Hot chocolate and snacks it is,” he said. Otto lit up.

“You always know how to make me feel better.”

“ _Uh, yeah, I sure hope I do_.”

They both laughed before exiting the car. Otto grabbed his rehearsal bag and bass from the back seat and Georg grabbed his bag too before locking the car. They started walking towards the entrance to Georg’s building in silence. They could do almost anything in silence. A great side effect of being friends for so long. Otto opened the front door, Georg hit the elevator button, Otto exited first, Georg unlocked the door to his apartment. It was like a routine developed over years of close friendship.

Otto went to go change and Georg was left on his own in the kitchen. He started making to mugs of hot chocolate and put a bag of popcorn in the microwave. As he was working on the drinks, his mind started to wander. He thought about how his friendship with Otto had evolved since they were kids. They’d met the first day of kindergarten. He remembered the nervous child clinging to his mom’s hand, clutching a boat made out of folded paper in a tiny hand. For some reason, Georg had instantly felt drawn to the kid with the brown hair and big, blue eyes that were so wide with anxiety. He’d just wanted to be his friend so badly. His mom must have noticed, because she had walked over to Mrs. Lammermeier and introduced herself, dragging Georg with her. Otto had retreated behind his mom’s legs, but was peeking shyly out from behind them. Georg had waved at him, smiling widely. With a few words of encouragement and reassurance from his mom, Otto had wandered off with Georg. When their mothers returned to pick them up at the end of the day, they were sitting in the sand box holding hands and digging in the sand while Otto info dumped about boats and the sea.

They’d been inseparable ever since.

“What are you smiling about?” Otto asked, entering the kitchen wearing an oversized band hoodie and black tights. Georg looked up and something grabbed hold of his heart and squeezed. He must have reacted externally because Otto was at his side in an instant. “You alright?!” he asked, clearly worried. Georg nodded, flushing bright red. Thankfully you couldn’t really tell in the dark kitchen. Otto gently took a hold of Georg’s hand, just like he’d done when they were kids, and guided it off of the pot that was currently brewing hot chocolate. Always made from scratch, never any of those pre-packaged hot chocolate bags. Georg felt as if his skin was on fire. “Go change, I’ll finish up here,” Otto told him, smiling softly. By that point, Georg couldn’t protest. Damn, if only Otto knew how easily he could get Georg to do literally anything he wanted.

Georg headed for his bedroom and got changed. He put on a pair of grey sweatpants and an old t shirt. When he returned to the kitchen, Otto wasn’t there. Georg furrowed his brows in confusion. “Living room!” Otto’s voice called out, a hint of laughter very clear in his voice. Georg rolled his eyes at his own aloofness. When he entered the living room, Otto had put the mugs and the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and he himself was cuddled up on the couch in a mountain of blankets. “I’ve decided that we’re sleeping here, hope you don’t mind,” he grinned up at him. The same thing squeezed Georg’s heart, but he hid it well this time. He laughed and went over to join the pile of blankets in the couch. “You look really comfy,” he commented, referring to the fact that Otto was swaddled in blankets like a baby. “I know, right? Get in on this,” Otto responded, opening the burrito he resided in. Georg felt himself blush again, but he willed it away. “You sure?” he asked, inching closer. “Of course I am!” Otto smiled, nodding. That was all the convincing Georg needed and he climbed inside Otto’s blanket cocoon. Clearly content with this, Otto quickly wrapped the blankets around them, effectively trapping Georg incredibly close to him.

“You were right, this is comfy,” Georg mumbled into Otto’s shoulder, shifting a bit to get a little more comfortable. Silence settled over them and they were both left to their own thoughts. Georg knew he couldn’t let Otto get too lost in his thoughts, as his friend had an awful habit of overthinking. Still, it was nice to be able to share comfortable silence like this occasionally. It was just another great indicator of the nature of their friendship. Friendship. That word didn’t sit right with Georg anymore, what he had with Otto was so much more. He was just scared to admit it. Scared to ruin something before it even happened.

“Hey, what were you smiling about back in the kitchen?” This took Georg by surprise. Otto was hardly ever the person to break the silence. His voice was quieter, not as giggly as it had been only a couple of minutes ago. Georg could never be anything but honest with Otto. “I was thinking about us. Can you believe we’ve been friends for so long?” he said, his voice quieter as well.

A chuckle. “Yeah, it’s pretty crazy to think about.”

“I still remember the moment we met. My mom insisted on introducing herself to your mom. You were hiding behind her legs.”

“And you insisted on waving to me.”

Now Georg was the one to chuckle. Pause. “I’m glad I did.”

Silence.

“I am too,” Otto whispered.

Then silence engulfed them once more as they both tried to make sense of the conversation that had just taken place. Georg had a minor freak out in the privacy of his own thoughts. He might as well have just confessed right then and there, his heart rate would have been the same. Minutes crawled past as both boys freaked a little bit, but finally Otto said something. “Our cocoa is getting cold,” he muttered, the giggly tone back in his voice. “Right,” Georg said, moving to sit up, making space for both of them to sit. He reached for the mugs, handing one to Otto. He took a sip, relishing in the warm feeling that now spread across his chest. “Can I ask what you observed while hanging with our friends today?” he asked, lowering his mug again and glancing at his friend. He absolutely adored listening to Otto ramble about all the things he noticed. Otto smiled at him from over his mug. “Sure! Gimme a second,” he said, glancing down as he scanned his mind for details. “Have you noticed that Ilse always leans towards Wendla whenever she talks?” Otto said after a moment. Georg thought about that for a second. “Yeah, I have. It’s like she wants to make sure she gets attention,” he chuckled. Otto nodded, agreeing with him. “Oh, and Melchior’s voice gets really soft and not as loud whenever he talks about or with Moritz.” This took Georg by surprise, and his eyebrows shot up to indicate said emotion. Otto giggled a bit before moving on. “You always make that face when something surprises you. You did the same thing when Ernst said he’d fallen asleep on his bathroom floor after you’d driven him home that one time,” he commented.

This went on for some time. After a few minutes, Georg stopped paying has much attention to what Otto said, but was watching his movements and facial expressions more closely. His eyes were no less piercing inside as they had been in the car earlier. His blue hair was messy, because he kept running his hand through it ever other sentence or so. It was a good look. Georg’s eyes started to wander. Otto’s oversized hoodie had slipped off one of his shoulders, revealing a sprinkle of freckles on his neck and shoulder as well as his prominent collarbone. He’d put the mug down and his hands had retreated inside the sleeves of his hoodie and they were moving along with his words, sometimes illustrating what he was talking about and sometimes just moving for the sake of moving.

“Georg?” Otto’s confused and shy voice brought him back to reality again. _Fuck_. _Shit_. _Crap_. _Oh no_. He’d fucked up real bad now. “What’s going on?” Otto continued, his head was tilted a bit, prompting the hoodie to slip further down his upper arm. Georg swallowed and put his mug down on the table before moving a bit closer to Otto. “I was just thinking, I’m sorry. What were you saying?” he said, trying to cover up what had just happened. Otto smiled gently and reached out to take Georg’s hand. “I wanna know what you were thinking about. I’ve been talking a lot about me and my thoughts, it’s your turn to share now,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the back of Georg’s hand, like he always saw Martha do to Anna. Georg glanced at the digital clock on his radio. It was almost 3am. Well, it might as well be now.

“I was thinking about you. Watching you,” he started, and he almost cringed at how bad it sounded. “I’m sorry, let me rephrase that. I was doing the thing that you tend to do. Noticing little things. I’m just bad at it,” he continued, his face heating up. Otto smiled at him. “It’s alright. Do you wanna tell me what you saw?” he asked, still gently rubbing the back of his hand. “Y-your eyes… They..” Georg tried, his heart beating too fast to continue. “What about them?” Otto asked, tilting his head to encourage Georg to keep talking. “They’re really blue. They stand out in the dark. In a good way,” Georg said, rather clumsily. This was hard. How did Otto do this so easily? He sighed a bit and shook his head. “Look, it’s late. I might as well just say this now. You’re really cute. That’s what I was looking at. My sleep deprived brain decided it wanted to watch you while you talked. This sounds so dumb, I’m so bad with words. I’m sorry, I-“ The string of words was cut short by Otto holding up his hand to silence Georg. “It’s okay, Georg. Really. Just say exactly what’s on your mind. I know it’s hard, trust me. Not everyone can wear their heart on their sleeve. Like Wendla does. Or… Like I do.”

“You remember the question Thea asked during the game back at the bar?” Georg asked, trying a new approach. Otto scrunched his face up a bit as he thought about that. “The.. The crush thing?” he asked, and Georg nodded in response. “We all took a sip, right?” Otto nodded, confused as to where this was going. Georg cursed himself for being so incredibly bad with this stuff.

“Aw, fuck it! I’m just gonna say it. I’ve had a thing for you since middle school.” Like a band aid, Georg just ripped it off. He said it, put it out there. He tried to move his hand, not wanting to make Otto uncomfortable, but Otto latched onto it, refusing to give it up. “Really?” Otto’s voice was small, but it was soft. Full of emotion. Georg took a deep breath, nodding. “Yes, really. I was just so scared about saying something. I was scared I’d ruin our friendship, because nothing is more important to me,” he explained, taking Otto’s other hand.

Otto couldn’t help himself, he giggled. “Are you really laughing at me right now?!” Georg said, acting mildly offended. “Here I am, being my most honest self at 3 in the fucking morning, admitting to something that’s been brewing inside me since we were 12 years old and you’re fucking laughing at me?” Luckily, Otto knew Georg well enough to know that he wasn’t actually offended. “I’m sorry, it’s just… We’re just so tired. This situation is so ridiculous. You’re ridiculous, I’m ridiculous. We’ve been beating around the bush long enough, c’mere,” Otto said, pulling Georg in close and kissing him. The kiss was clumsy, soft and way, way too short. The moment Otto pulled away, Georg pulled him back in. A few minutes of clumsy kissing, shifting and giggles later, they were lying down again. Georg’s head was resting on Otto’s chest, their fingers laced together and their legs tangled in a mess of blankets. And they were both out cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all know how much kudos and comments are appreciated. Like, it truly makes my day that some of you take time out of your day to validate this lil AU of mine! <3
> 
> Say hi on tumblr and feel free to ask me questions about this AU there!  
> diangeloco.tumblr.com


	6. So Much Left To Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his mom died he had been inconsolable, and the only person he’d wanted to be around was Ilse. His dad had shut him out, and all of his “friends” had decided it was best to avoid him. But not Ilse. She had pushed her way into his life, whether he wanted her to or not, and he’d been strangely alright with it. Moritz had appreciated that Ilse didn’t try to pretend that everything would be fine again. She acknowledged that Moritz was hurting, she sympathized with him and let him know that his feelings were valid. He’d wanted to be around her every day since. It might have read as obsession to some, but Ilse and Moritz didn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey there  
> Yes, I'm still writing for this AU, don't you worry!
> 
> Chapter name inspiration: "Hey There Delilah" by Plain White T's  
> Chapter warnings: A passing mention of alcohol and weed

Moritz had been living with Ilse for a couple of weeks now, and it was amazing. It was nice always having Ilse around. He’d wished he could have her around constantly ever since they were kids. After his mom died he had been inconsolable, and the only person he'd wanted to be around was Ilse. His dad had shut him out, and all of his “friends” had decided it was best to avoid him. But not Ilse. She had pushed her way into his life, whether he wanted her to or not, and he’d been strangely alright with it. Moritz had appreciated that Ilse didn’t try to pretend that everything would be fine again. She acknowledged that Moritz was hurting, she sympathized with him and let him know that his feelings were valid. He’d wanted to be around her every day since. It might have read as obsession to some, but Ilse and Moritz didn’t care.

Now he was living with Ilse, and it was beyond his wildest dreams. Ilse’s apartment was small, of course. They didn’t exactly make a ton of money on a day to day basis. However, Moritz thought it was perfect. A little messy, a little dirty, and a little small. And it was perfection. Moritz came from a pretty big house in the suburbs to this tiny apartment downtown, and he wouldn’t go back even if he was paid to.

Nevertheless, there were still habits he hadn’t been able to shake. He still caught himself walking on his tiptoes. Hiding his weed, even though he knew Ilse smoked too. Whispering. Most of the time, he wasn’t even aware of the fact that he was doing it. Ilse had more than once asked him why he was whispering, or why he was sneaking around. But she understood, and she helped him work through his trauma. Baby steps. That’s what she kept saying. Baby steps.

“Get up, sleepyhead! I’ve got breakfast!” Ilse yelled cheerfully, barging into the office space/music studio that was currently also Moritz’ room. They were working on it. Something that Moritz hadn’t learned about Ilse prior to moving in with her was that she was a bit of a morning person. It was really odd, because he’d always assumed she was a night owl, like himself. After so many years of being friends, and Ilse still managed to surprise him. It was quite impressive. Moritz groaned and rolled over, burying his head under his pillow. Ilse’s laughter filled the room. “Ritzie, it’s well past noon. You need to get up,” she said, putting the bag she was holding down and jumping on Moritz’ back. Moritz let out a grunt and mumbled a half hearted ‘fuck you’ into the pillow. Ilse laughed and laid down on Moritz’ back, cuddling up to him. “You love me, and you know it,” she hummed, playing with his hair. Moritz mumbled something into the pillow. “What was that?” Ilse asked. He lifted his head off the pillow and repeated what he said. “Unfortunately, yes,” he said, voice croaky and heavy with sleep. Ilse laughed again, moving off him now that she’d managed to get an actual response. “You’re adorable,” she hummed, picking up the bag again. “Are you gonna join me for breakfast, or nah?” she asked, holding the bag out to him. Moritz sat up and rubbed his eyes before focusing on the bag. He looked between the bag and Ilse a couple of times, disbelief written all over his features. “Did you actually go to Subway and buy breakfast?” he asked, clearly confused. “Yes, idiot, of course I did! I wanted Subway, and you know me. If I crave something, I gotta have it,” she explained, already on her way out the door again. Moritz just shook his head, grabbed his glasses from the desk and hopped out of bed. He was wearing an old, ripped band tee and underwear, but he never felt shy around Ilse, so it was no big deal for him to join Ilse on the couch in the living room like this.

“How nice of you to finally grace us with your presence!” Ilse exclaimed, pushing a pile of dirty clothes on the floor to make room for Moritz on the couch. “Who’s us?” he asked, yawning. “Me and the voices in my head,” she joked, reaching into the Subway bag to hand Moritz’ sub to him. That elicited a rare laugh from Moritz, and Ilse beamed at him. “I haven’t seen you this happy in years, Ritzie. It suits you,” she smiled, squeezing his hand after handing him his food. A slight blush crept onto Moritz’ face, but he smiled anyway. He didn’t need to say anything for Ilse to know what he meant.

They ate in silence, and after a few minutes Ilse turned on the TV. This was one of the things that had been beyond strange for Moritz when he first moved in. Being able to chill like this without being worried about doing something wrong was something completely new for him. Back home he constantly had to be doing _something_ or else his dad would’ve called him lazy or worthless, or a combination of the two, but here he could just… Exist. In peace. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to repay Ilse for what she’d done for him, it was honestly beyond words.

“Hey, by the way, Melchior called,” Ilse said after they had finished their food. She switched the TV off, and Moritz was forced to look at her. “What did he want? Is he okay?” he asked, trying to keep a casual tone. Ilse chuckled a bit and tucked her legs underneath herself, getting comfortable. “It’s Melchior, of course he’s okay. He asked about you, wanted to know if you were settling in alright and stuff,” she said, running a hand over her shaved head. Her hair had started to grow back out, but it was still very much a buzzcut. Moritz was confused. Melchior almost never called just to _ask_ about something like that, and it was even more rare for him to call _Ilse_ of all people. “Was that all he wanted? To ask how I was doing?” Moritz asked, tilting his head in confusion. “Of course not, silly, it’s Melchior, he always has an ulterior motive,” Ilse laughed. Moritz laughed a bit, shaking his head. “You say that like he’s always up to something,” he said. She raised a brow at that. “He _is_ always up to something,” she insisted, but she was smiling regardless. “He wanted to know if you could bring your guitar over to his place and look over a few songs he’s been writing. He thinks you’d be able to help him finish them,” she explained, and then she laughed at the way Moritz’ face lit up. Of course, he was always excited to work with Melchior on his songs.

Moritz got up and went to his room to find his phone, finding half a dozen missed calls from Melchior and several text messages. He mentally slapped himself for always having his phone on silent. That explained why Melchior had called Ilse. He popped his head back into the living room, letting Ilse know that he was going to have a shower and then head over to Melchior’s place. He also thanked her for the food. She smiled at him and waved her hand around to say that he shouldn’t thank her for it. Moritz sent a message to Melchior, letting him know that he’d be coming over in approximately 45 minutes. He got a response right away, just a thumbs up. Then he locked his phone and hopped in the shower.

Half an hour later, Moritz was showered, dressed and ready to leave. “You look good, seeing someone special?” Ilse teased him from the same spot on the couch. He laughed and gave her the middle finger. “Love you, Ritzie,” she grinned in response. “Love you too, I’ll be back… Sometime tonight,” he replied, waving at her and exiting the apartment.

*

Because he didn’t drive, Moritz had to take the bus. Thankfully, for his anxiety’s sake, it wasn’t more than ten minutes. He plugged his headphones into his phone and played some music to keep his anxiety in check, leaning his head against the window. The bus ride went by kind of quickly, and ten minutes later he stepped off the bus right outside Melchior’s apartment complex. To his surprise, Melchior was actually waiting at the bus stop. He was dressed in black ripped jeans and a giant dark red hoodie with his tattered leather jacket on top. He was smiling from ear to ear, hands in his jacket pockets and hair messy, but not he kind of messy Moritz’ hair suffered from; Melchior’s hair was messy on purpose.

Moritz reached up and took his headphones off, draping them around his neck. “Hey, Melchi,” he smiled. Melchior suddenly removed his hands from his pockets and lunged forward to wrap Moritz in a hug. This startled Moritz a bit, but he hugged back regardless, laughing nervously. “What’s this for?” he asked, awkwardly patting Melchior’s back. The other male let him go and took a step back, his cheeks flushed a soft shade of red, but this could just be the freezing air that surrounded them. “I’m just happy to see you, do I need a reason?” Melchior said, pocketing his hands again and starting to cross the road to get to his building’s main entrance. Moritz shook his head a bit and followed him. “You don’t need one, but you always seem to have one. For everything you do,” he replied. Melchior looked over his shoulder to wink at him. “Only a few weeks and you’re already starting to sound like Ilse,” he commented, before turning back around to open the door. Moritz rolled his eyes and the conversation ended at that.

They entered the building and Melchior asked if Moritz was cool with taking the elevator. Moritz nodded, but he appreciated that Melchior actually cleared that with him instead of just assuming that he’d be alright with that. Strangely, even with all his phobias and his anxiety, confined spaces were not something Moritz feared. They rode the elevator mostly in silence, apart from Melchior’s humming. It wasn’t a song Moritz recognized, so he assumed it had to be one of the new ones that he was working on. The doors opened, and they exited the elevator, Melchior got his keys out and unlocked the door that belonged to him.

Moritz had been to Melchior’s apartment several times before. It was cleaner than you’d expect, and bigger too. It was no secret that Melchior came from a bit of money, and even though he rejected wealth and the comforts of his previous life, it had left him with enough money to get a very nice place to live once he moved out. He didn’t reject the lifestyle until after he’d moved out, which might have been a tad selfish, but it gave him the chance to get himself a comfortable place to live and a pretty well-sized bank account. The only mess that was ever to be found in Melchior’s apartment was pieces of paper, either whole or crumpled up, with his writing on them and the odd sweater on the floor here and there. Moritz didn’t mind. It was a stark difference from the mess of Ilse’s, and now his, apartment, so the change was welcome.

“Just make yourself at home. As you tend do,” Melchior said, taking his leather jacket off and tossing it on a chair in the hallway. Moritz nodded, taking his own jacket off and hanging it neatly on the coat rack. “Want anything to drink? Water? Coke? A beer?” Melchior asked, heading to the kitchen. “Melchi, it’s 3 in the afternoon!” Moritz laughed, heading for the living room and sitting down on the couch, stretching his legs out. Melchior’s laughter sounded from the kitchen, followed by the unmistakeable sound of someone opening a bottle of beer. “You come into _my_ house, you _insult_ my habits…” he said, joining Moritz in the living room. “As your friend, it’s my job to insult your habits. Thanks,” Moritz said, taking the bottle he was handed. Melchior knew that Moritz wouldn’t say no to a beer, even if it was a tad early to start drinking. They weren’t gonna have more than one anyways, it was fine.

They both took a swig of their bottles, putting them down on the table at the same time. Melchior wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, Moritz’ eyes followed the movement. “Did Ilse tell you why I called?” Melchior asked, and Moritz snapped out of his trance. “Yeah, she said you wanted me to have a go at some songs you were working on,” he said, adjusting on the couch and pulling his legs up under himself to get comfortable. Melchior smiled, nodding. “That’s right. I’ve been having a go at them myself, but… I don’t know, it always just sounds _better_ when you sing them,” he said, adjusting a bit as well. Moritz ran a hand awkwardly through his hair, biting his lip slightly and letting his tongue play with his lip ring for a second. “You haven’t even heard me sing them yet, dude,” he said, laughing slightly. Melchior joined him in laughter. “I know, I know. But I’ve heard what you’ve done with my songs before. Remember, you made Wendla cry once!” he chuckled. Moritz rolled his eyes a bit, but he silently appreciated the comment. “Okay, lemme hear’em,” he said, nodding his head. Melchior beamed, getting his notebook from the table. He found the page he’d last been working on, stood the book up against the bottle on the table and got his guitar from the floor. Moritz rested his elbow on the back of the couch, his head resting in his hand. The moment Melchior’s long, pale fingers started playing the chords, Moritz was drawn in.

“ _Where I go, when I go there_  
_No more memory anymore_  
 _Only men on distant ships, the women with them_  
 _Swimming with them to shore_ ”

Melchior started to sing, and Moritz leaned towards him subconsciously. It was a different kind of tone to what he’d heard from his band mate previously. Usually Melchior wrote angsty songs with heavy melodies and subjects, but this… This was something completely different. It was melodic, a little melancholic, and utterly beautiful. The rhythm was there, but it didn’t sound like something Moritz had heard Melchior sing before. In a way, it felt like Melchior was showing him a different side of himself. Moritz felt like he was being let in on a secret.

“ _Where I go, when I go there_  
_No more whispering anymore_  
 _Only hymns upon your lips_  
 _A mystic wisdom, rising with them to shore_ ”

The song continued, but when the second half of the verse ended, Moritz held up a hand. He could already sense that this was something special, and he knew precisely what the song needed. Melchior stopped playing and looked at Moritz with an expression that almost looked like… _Fear_. “What do you think?” he asked after a moments silence. Moritz couldn’t help but to smile widely. “I think it’s beautiful. The moment you played the first G chord I was sold. I don’t even really see what you need me for, your voice goes perfectly with this kind of melody,” he said, playfully nudging Melchior’s shoulder with his fist. Melchior ducked his head, chuckling a little. Moritz continued, “However, if I were to add something to make this song more suitable for our group, I would break it up. Change up who’s singing what, add some harmonies, all that. Go from the top again, I’ll join you for the second half of the verse.” Moritz picked up his guitar and nodded at Melchior, telling him to begin.

Moritz was right in his element. This was what he loved to do. All he really needed to do was watch Melchior change his grip, and then he’d learn the melody. Once was enough. They played through the song again, this time Moritz let Melchior keep going into the chorus.

“ _Touch me just like that_  
_And that, oh, yeah, now that's heaven_  
 _Now that I like, God, that's so nice_  
 _Now lower down where the figs lie_ ”

After that, Melchior slowly trailed off. Moritz didn’t have to ask, he knew that this was as far as his friend had gotten in his writing. He put his guitar away and took a swig of his beer, which left his hand wet as the frost on the outside of the bottle had condensed while they were playing. He absently dried his hand on his pants and cleared his throat. “This is absolutely full of potential, Melchi. I don’t understand why you haven’t written more stuff like this, it’s incredible!” he said, smiling at the other. Melchior smiled back, shrugging slightly as he too took a drink of his beer. “It’s a bit out of my comfort zone, you know what my usual stuff sounds like,” he said, gesturing vaguely. Moritz laughed a bit. “What is this I hear? The great Melchior Gabor as a comfort zone?” he joked, leaning back on the couch slightly. Melchior laughed, and Moritz continued. “But, in all seriousness, this song is really great. I would love to keep working on it with you and make it something truly special, if you would let me,” he said, suddenly feeling weirdly intrusive. It felt like he was sort of violating Melchior’s privacy, or meddling with something that wasn’t meant for him. “Of course! I want to work with you on this, but I don’t think I’m ready to show it to the others yet. I want this to be…” Melchior trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. His face scrunched up a bit, as if he was looking for the right words. Moritz revelled a bit in that; it wasn’t often Melchior Gabor was at a loss for words. Melchior spoke up again. “I want this to be a project between you and me. At least for now. Finishing the song, perfecting it, all that, I want that to be between us. I want this song to be _ours_ , not just mine,” he finished. Moritz was sure he was bright red, but he ignored it for now. “You know I’m not a songwriter, Melchi,” he said, fidgeting with his bottle. Melchior cut him off, “I don’t care. You have an ear for this stuff. You’re talented as fuck, Moritz, and nobody tells you that enough.”

This caught Moritz off guard. He wasn’t used to compliments, and especially not from Melchior. Sure, he could accept a compliment here and there from Ilse, or Wendla, or even Ernst, but coming from anyone else… It felt wrong. All his life he’d been told he was worthless. Talentless. Useless. By his father, his teachers, a handful of friends. Hell, he’d once been told so by Hanschen at some point, someone who he now considered one of his closest friends. That had taken him a long, long time to forgive. Hearing Melchior call him ‘ _talented as fuck_ ’, was borderline weird. Did he mind? No, not at all. Did he have a hard time accepting it? Fuck yes.

“O-Oh, Melchi, I… I don’t know… I don’t know how to reply to that, I…” he stuttered out, marking the first time his speech impediment had acted up since he ran away from home. “Then don’t. You don’t have to always have a response, Moritz,” Melchior said, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. Moritz looked up. Melchior was smiling at him, his dimples on full display. That was a feature that was rarely seen on Melchior. Whenever he smiled, he never let it get too wide, or he’d smirk. Those smiles were saved for special occasions only. Moritz hadn’t seen one of those smiles in years. It made him feel strangely calm. His heartrate slowed down to its normal pace, his shoulder ceased to tense, and he unclenched the fist that wasn’t holding the beer bottle. Then he gave a small nod, and Melchior let go of his shoulder and sat back, switching topics easily.

*

Moritz left Melchior’s apartment late that night, taking the last possible bus. They’d spent the evening working on a couple songs, drinking a few beers, and talking about everything and nothing. It’d been nice. Really nice. Moritz was humming a song as he unlocked the door to his and Ilse’s apartment. The door had barely closed behind him when Ilse came out of nowhere and threw her arms around his neck. “I-Ilse! What’s going on?!” he burst out, arms instinctively wrapping around her in return. “Is everything alright?!” Ilse heaved a huge breath before speaking, pulling back from her best friend. “Where. Have. You. Been? I thought you’d disappeared!” she said, marking every word by hitting Moritz’ chest with her palm. Moritz was beyond confused. “I’ve been… I’ve been at Melchior’s? You knew that, didn’t you?” he asked, gently taking Ilse’s hand so she would stop hitting him. Then he sniffed the air. “… Ilse are you high?” he added, looking her in the eyes. “Yes, asshole. Of-fucking-course I’m high! I’ve been worried sick! I knew you were at Melchior’s, but you could’ve at least sent me a message letting me know you were gonna be this late!” she screamed. Moritz collected himself, put his guitar gently down on the floor and gathered Ilse in his arms. “My phone died, Ilse. I didn’t know I’d be gone for so long, Melchi and I got talking and then…” he trailed off, realizing there was no use explaining himself. He’d upset her, and now he had to make it up to her. “Let’s… Let’s sit down for a bit, yeah?” he tried, guiding her towards the couch.

They sat down, and Ilse finally calmed down after several minutes. “How long have you been panicking?” Moritz asked, rubbing her back. She shook her head. “I don’t know. Lost track of time,” she said, sounding really deflated. “Look, Ritzie, if you’re gonna be living with me I’m gonna need you to keep me updated, okay? Nothing is more important to me than your safety. I know I sound like your damn mother or something, but you’re like a brother to me, and I need to know that you’re alright!” she said, her tempo impressively fast for someone who was stoned. “I know, Ilse. Trust me, I know. I won’t let it happen again, yeah?” Moritz replied, hugging her gently. She took a deep breath, relaxing into his touch. “I’m sorry, okay?” he continued. Ilse sighed, pulling back to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that, and I shouldn’t have gotten high when I was already panicking, because I know my anxiety acts up when I do that. I’m sorry, Ritzie.”

 

Moritz smiled at her. “I’ve already forgiven you. Can you forgive me?”

She laughed. “I already have, idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hi on tumblr (diangeloco.tumblr.com) and feel free to ask questions about this AU there!
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!!!


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